


A Shot To The Heart

by My_Alter_Ego



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:36:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Neal feels blindsided when a mystery woman shows up on his doorstep and makes an astounding claim. That information causes problems in Peter and Neal’s relationship, and a CI’s parole agreement is suddenly in jeopardy.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Neal Caffrey & Mozzie, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 20
Kudos: 40





	1. Color Me Surprised!

Neal is kicked back in his loft putting the finishing touches on a painting. It is yet another version of the iconic New York skyline that he can see from his balcony. Over the last three years, this has been Neal’s fallback inspiration done in the fashion of great painters like Monet, Chagall, and even Salvador Dali, although that rendition was a little over-the-top in weirdness. He almost doesn’t hear the timid tapping at the door to his loft. Wiping his hands on a paint-stained rag, he curiously opens it to find himself staring at an attractive young woman. “Can I help you?” he asks politely.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” the pretty stranger says mildly as she cocks her head coquettishly and holds his stare.

“I’m sorry, but you have me at a disadvantage,” Neal replies uncertainly.

“Well, it was a long time ago and it wasn’t as if we dated or anything,” was the inconclusive answer.

“Maybe you could start by telling me your name,” Neal says. He wants to move this encounter along because he really hates mysteries.

“Sure, why not,” the young lady answers. “After all, the whole point of me coming here tonight is for us to become reacquainted. My name is Susan, and I am the mother of your child.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal and Susan are now seated opposite each other across the small table in the kitchenette with cups of coffee in their hands. Neal keeps his fingers tightly clenched around the warmth of the ceramic mug because that helped to steady his nerves. A good con man never lets anyone see him sweat or even show a hint of any spiraling emotions. His cynical self had defaulted to skepticism regarding this new claim that had come out of the blue. But, a tiny bit of his psyche was in a panic because what if it were true?

“Why don’t you start at the beginning of this story,” Neal says as he stares hard into her eyes.

“It’s not a ‘story’ as in some kind of fairy tale,” Susan seems a bit miffed. “It’s the truth, whether you want to believe it or not!”

Neal doesn’t answer. Instead he holds her with his intense gaze until she blinks first. “Okay, I can get down and dirty with you, Neal,” Susan says evenly. “Ten years ago, I was a young bartender in Manhattan. You and your girlfriend were hunkered down having the mother of all arguments in the upscale drinking establishment where I worked right before she stormed out in a snit.”

Neal was still in the dark, but he had to agree that his past relationship with Kate was sometimes dramatically tempestuous. Their arguments were stormy and intense, but their makeups were just as stupendously amazing. “Go on,” Neal urges.

“Well, you stayed hanging over the bar getting yourself shitfaced drunk until you couldn’t see straight,” Susan continues. “I actually felt sorry for you. Since you were in no condition to take care of business, I took a credit card out of your wallet, used it to pay the tab, and that’s how I found out your name. After final call, I made sure you got home safely.”

“Obviously, there’s more,” Neal says quietly, although right now, it wasn’t very hard to imagine what that ‘more’ was.

“Look, Neal, you were a sorry mess that night, and I just happened to be there for you,” Susan replies matter-of-factly. “You never really saw me as a person. I was just a sympathetic port in the storm during a very bad time, and maybe, in your drunken stupor, you thought I was that girlfriend of yours coming back to you. It only happened once before you totally passed out, but those little swimmers of yours were gold-medal Olympians, and four weeks later I’m knocked up and having morning sickness. Eight months after that, I gave birth to our son. His name is Logan and he’s ten years old, in case you’re interested.”

“If what you say is true, why did you wait a decade before coming to tell me?” Neal wants to know.

“Embarrassment, shame, thoughts of a possible abortion,” Susan ticks off the possibilities. “Besides, I did try to find you after the shock wore off and I decided to commit to carrying your child. But Neal Caffrey was a ghost and you left no footprints behind.”

Neal is mentally reviewing his vagabond itinerary ten years previously. It was true that he, Kate, and Mozzie had taken a lengthy sabbatical across the pond to Europe a decade ago before returning to the States and becoming ensnared in Peter Burke’s trap. Being incarcerated in Upstate New York for almost four years was certainly being off the grid.

“Are you really sure that a one night stand ten years ago resulted in me being the father of your child?” Neal asks suspiciously.

Susan looks annoyed. “Hey, Dude, I wasn’t some loose floozy who made a habit of jumping into the sack with any Tom, Dick, or Harry with a handsome face. If I had been that kind of girl, I would have been better prepared with a means of birth control to prevent a pregnancy from happening.”

“So, you decided to raise the baby on your own?” Neal queries. “That must have been hard for a single young woman to do.”

“It wasn’t easy,” she acknowledges. “My parents grudgingly helped out a little at first, and then I did find a guy who was willing to get himself hitched to me and take on a ready-made family. But that’s all ancient history now. My parents have both passed away, and my ex-husband has passed on in a different way. He’s now found himself someone who isn’t encumbered with any baggage, and he’s happy as a clam making babies that are all his own.”

Neal is connecting the dots. “It sounds like you and Logan are all alone living in a pretty tough world. Maybe you need some help, perhaps some financial assistance, so is this really a shakedown for money?”

“You’re a bastard!” Susan spits out with venom.

“Sorry if you’re offended, but I had to ask,” Neal says slowly. “But back to the essential question—why now?”

“Not that it’s really any of your business, but I recently had a health scare—breast cancer, to be specific. It got me to thinking about Logan being all alone if something happened to me. So, here I am,” Susan finishes lamely.

“Susan,” Neal whispers softly, “you show up here tonight and drop this bombshell on me, so it seems like you want to control the situation. Maybe you should be the one to tell me what you think the next step should be.”

The woman sitting tensely before Neal sighs deeply. “I think you should meet Logan. He doesn’t need to know you’re his biological father—at least not right now. But you should get to know him, Neal. You might even find yourself liking him because he’s a really great kid.”

“Like I said, this is your show, Susan,” Neal replies, “so how do you want to handle the introductions?”

“Maybe this weekend in Central Park?” the young mother asks hopefully.

“I’ll be there,” Neal hears himself promising. He still doesn’t know if he’s a true believer, but he has to get the lay of the land—in this case, it is a ten year-old kid in the flesh. He wonders if parents have some kind of sixth sense when they find themselves standing next to a product of their own DNA? Do fireworks start to soar across their brain in a moment of instant enlightened attachment? More than likely, Neal is going to find himself staring at a little prepubescent creation who will be just as unaware as his possible sperm donor. They will be two virtual strangers, certainly not father and son in any true sense that is conjured up by that label. Neal is determined to proceed slowly and keep this on a purely neutral playing field so that nobody ends up getting hurt unnecessarily.

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal doesn’t share this disturbing new information with anyone, not even June, Peter or Mozzie. This could all be some kind of sick joke and he doesn’t want to admit he may be somebody’s stooge. But he does show up at the designated playground in the park at the predetermined time. He finds Susan seated on a bench with her eyes glued to a skinny young boy, all pointy elbows and knees, hanging upside down on the top tier of the monkey bars.

“Logan is a real daredevil,” Susan murmurs fondly, “and ‘up’ is always his preferred direction. In fact, the higher the better. Sometimes it makes me crazy just watching his antics.” Neal feels a twinge in his chest. His own mother always said the exact same thing about him when he was growing up.

Neal follows the trajectory of Susan’s gaze and takes in the dangling lean body and the dark mop of hair that is hanging down. It matches the color of his own, but plenty little urchins have dark brown hair. However, when the boy climbs down and trots over to his mother, Neal sees the startling blue eyes, the finely arched eyebrows, and the delicate high cheekbones, and he almost becomes a believer on the spot.

Susan seems unaware of Neal’s sudden pathos as she blithely makes introductions. “Logan, this is a friend of mine, and his name is Neal.”

The little boy smiles and there is a gap between his two front teeth. “Hi,” he says beguilingly, showing off dimples at the corners of his mouth. “I got a Frisbee, so do ya wanna toss me a couple?”

“Sure, Buddy, I can do that,” Neal answers awkwardly. And the rest of the afternoon passes in a bewildered haze, not the usual emotional state of mind for a con man.

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal has other intense discussions with Susan as the days unfurl. He demands to know her full name and her son’s, the exact date of Logan’s birth, and where it took place. He wants to know the name she entered as the child’s father on the birth certificate. She dispassionately informs him that she intentionally left that space blank, and when Logan was old enough to question why there was no father in the picture after her divorce, she thought it was gentler to tell the child that his real daddy had died long before he was born.

“You did sort of die, in a way,” Susan says in her own defense. “At least, you were dead to me because you were out there somewhere in the big, wide world and you had probably reunited with your girlfriend. I just knew she was again the love of your life, and there wouldn’t have been any room for a little boy to intrude on your happiness.”

“You shouldn’t have assumed anything,” Neal says almost bitterly. He’s thinking about how knowing he had a child might have changed the course of his life. Maybe he would have been less impetuous and foolhardy. Maybe he would have settled down to a more peaceful, even legitimate, existence. Maybe, maybe, maybe! A lot of ifs that weren’t relevant in the present tense. Neal had to acclimate himself to the here and now, even if this was some kind of fanciful but cruel parody with him being the butt of the joke. Neal knew, logically, he should demand a paternity test to put his demons to rest, but illogically, he kept himself from bringing it up with Susan. Right now, she was allowing him a lot of leeway to spend one-on-one time with Logan, and Neal had to admit, he was immensely enjoying himself.


	2. Getting To Know You

Neal carved out blocks of his free time away from the Bureau to spend with a guileless, innocent child who asked no questions about his motives. He played monotonous games of checkers and _Sorry_ and watched endless videos featuring superheroes. At other times, he took Logan to the zoo and even to the MoMA. He couldn’t interest the child in the works of Monet, but the exhibit halls filled with dinosaurs and mummies were a hit. They walked the boardwalk on Coney Island, rode the Ferris Wheel, and ate hotdogs and French Fries. Neal was experiencing a childhood so very different from his own spent in the lonely solitude of WitSec with a mother lost in her own world of sorrow.

Neal was certainly becoming attached to this child, even if that bond possibly didn’t extend to the alleles within their chromosomes. The former con man didn’t know where this train was heading, but he couldn’t seem to stop the progress in a journey that was fraught with worrisome pitfalls. If Logan was, indeed, his son, didn’t he deserve a better life than being saddled with an ex-con father who made his living deceiving others? Neal had always been proud of his criminal expertise, but now he was feeling ashamed. His complacent little world had been turned upside down and he wasn’t sure how to upright it again. Nonetheless, he tried to do better. When he noticed that Logan had slickly pocketed a pack of gum from a bodega when they stopped to buy milk, Neal marched the little light-fingered thief straight back up to the Pakistani clerk at the cash register.

“What do you want to say to the man?” Neal said in a steely voice.

Logan looked stricken and mortified. “I took this, Sir, and it wasn’t paid for,” he mumbled as the packet was placed on the counter and the child couldn’t meet the dark-skinned man’s eyes.

“Thank you for being honest,” was all that the surprised clerk could think to say before Neal maneuvered his charge back out onto the street, hopefully with a very hard lesson learned.

“Logan, you should be proud of a lot of things that you accomplish in your life,” Neal says softly as he places an arm around the hunched shoulders, “but being a thief shouldn’t be one of them. You have your whole existence waiting for you to carve out your unique niche. Make sure it is a life that you can live with.” As those word played on a loop in Neal’s mind, he began to wonder if it was Logan he was trying to reshape or himself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal was acting differently, and Peter was the first to pick up on the unusually quiet demeanor and the preoccupied contemplation when Neal thought nobody was taking notice. Of course, that caused a handler to begin to worry, and he found himself sifting through the previous weeks of Neal’s tracking history. Neal had been a very busy boy visiting places that were off the former felon’s usual beaten path. The museum might have been worrisome, but playgrounds, amusement parks, and zoos made absolutely no sense. Peter needed to know what Neal was up to during his leisure time, and nailing him to the wall with direct questions would be an exercise in futility and would probably cause a stupendous argument. Instead, Peter decided to do a bit of clandestine sleuthing on his own.

One evening, a stalking FBI agent strolled into a small trattoria in Little Italy and stopped at a corner table where Neal was seated with a young woman eating antipasto and a kid eagerly tucking into a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

“Hello, Neal,” Peter says smoothly. “Fancy meeting you here. Care to introduce me to your friends?”

Neal sends glaring daggers in his handler’s direction, but he is just as nonchalant as he makes the introductions. “Peter Burke, this is Susan Sanders, and this is her son, Logan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Peter says graciously. “How did you two meet, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Neal is clenching his jaw when an oblivious Susan answers for him. “Oh, Neal and I go back a long way to a time when we were young and silly idiots.”

When Peter remains hovering uncertainly but there is no invitation forthcoming for him to join the little party, he bids his farewell and returns home with a ton of questions that need answering. Of course, it is only a matter of time before Neal is banging down his door. “What’s with the nosy snooping, Peter?” Neal seethes. “You get to watch me like a hawk each and every day at work, so don’t I deserve a little privacy during my downtime away from you?”

“Not if what you’re doing looks suspicious,” Peter says in rebuttal.

“Does taking a woman and her kid out to dinner seem like some kind of sinister plot?” Neal answers testily.

“If it’s as innocent as you want to make it sound, then you have nothing to worry about,” Peter snarks. “Excuse me for noticing, but this over-the-top reaction from you tells me there’s more to this story, and if you’re using a child in some caper, well, that’s just wrong on so many levels.”

Neal shakes his head in disgust. “If you think so little of me, why did you ever want to work with me in the first place? Obviously, you think I’m some despicable excuse for a human being with no soul.”

Elizabeth has ventured downstairs at the sound of the raised voices. “Guys, take it down a notch,” she begs placatingly. “I heard that accusation, Neal, and that just isn’t true. Peter may not completely trust you, but he knows in his heart that you’re a good person. Now tell me the problem that has the two of you at each other’s throats.”

“Peter insists on spying on me,” Neal says petulantly.

“Because you’re acting squirrelly,” Peter says in his own defense.

“Not helpful, Peter. Just spell it out with a little more clarity,” El pleads. “Tell me exactly what happened tonight.”

“I took a young lady and her little son out for an Italian dinner,” Neal spits out. “Then Peter shows up like a storm trooper. End of the nefarious story!”

“I think that sounds lovely,” Elizabeth purrs, “at least the dinner part. Okay, Hon, now you’re up at bat. Why were you stalking Neal?”

“Because he didn’t tell me he was seeing anyone, especially someone from his ‘nefarious’ past,” Peter says smugly. “Now tell me that doesn’t have alarm bells going off loud and clear.”

“Maybe it’s none of your business,” Neal snarls with an edge in his voice.

“Everything about you is my business,” Peter claims in his own defense. “I have to make sure you stay on the straight and narrow with no temptations to return to your evil ways.”

“Let me put your fears to rest, Buddy,” Neal says menacingly. “Susan and Logan were not a part of my _evil_ ways back before I met you, nor are they a present threat to anyone. So, back off, Peter!”

“Maybe when you cool down, Neal, you could talk to me,” El offers charmingly. “I’m not coming into this donnybrook with any preconceptions and I can be an impartial judge. Would that make everyone feel a little less hostile?”

“Why do I have to explain myself to anyone?” Neal asks stubbornly. “If what I’m doing is not breaking any laws and I’m staying within my radius, then I shouldn’t be subjected to anyone’s interrogation.”

“Does the mystery woman in question know about your rather checkered past and your present circumstances?” Peter has to throw fuel on the fire.

“Go to hell, Peter!” Neal growls as he storms out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal knew he had to calm down, so he walked several blocks to get his temper under control before using his phone to summon Mozzie and his Yellow Cab. Neal didn’t want to admit it, but Peter had hit on a sore spot. Neal had not offered up any of his own history to Susan after their single encounter that had occurred in a long ago past. She didn’t know of his illegal blaze of glory around the globe or his ignominious fall from grace. She didn’t know that he was now an ex-felon on parole who still had quite a bit of time before he could be free of his yoke. He was lying to her by omission and he remained emotionally troubled as he slid into the back of Mozzie’s taxi.

“What’s with the long face, Neal?” Mozzie wants to know as he eyes his fare in the rearview mirror. “Since I’m picking you up near Casa Suit, it has to be connected to your jailer. What’s he done now?”

“He’s an intrusive schmuck sticking his nose into my business,” Neal swears in disgust.

“Well, that’s always been a given,” Mozzie shrugs. “Why does it bother you so much now at this late date?”

“Maybe because the stakes are much higher this time,” Neal grudgingly admits.

“That sounds intriguing. Care to share?” Mozzie asks meekly.

Maybe it was because Neal was now sitting in the dark in the back seat and couldn’t see Mozzie’s expression. It sort of reminded him of entering a confessional and being an anonymous penitent telling their sins to another faceless someone on the other side of a grill that separated them. In halting disjointed sentences, it all came spewing out, being blindsided, being leery, then maybe even hopeful that there was a connection to another human being.

“You want this young boy to really be your son, don’t you,” Mozzie says wisely as he now sits beside Neal on the sofa in his loft.

“I don’t know, Moz,” Neal sighs. “My feelings are all over the place. One minute, that possibility sounds like a tremendous gift, and the next minute I’m panicked that it’s true. Then I circle back to maybe it’s all just a cruel ruse and that makes me angry.”

“Well, there’s an easy remedy for your pathos,” Mozzie says quietly.

“I know—a paternity test,” Neal replies levelly.

“If you haven’t pushed for it, maybe you don’t really want a definitive answer,” the little bald man says softly.

“Yeah, I’m a coward,” Neal agrees. “I just don’t want to face the fact that this all may be a fantasy. Me, of all people, should know it could be just one long con.”

“Has this Susan person asked you for support money or any kind of financial help?” Mozzie asks.

“No, not really, although I do show up at her apartment with groceries sometimes, and I may have bought a few things for Logan,” Neal acknowledges.

”Has she shown any curiosity about what you’ve been doing since your one and only little encounter years ago?” Mozzie pushes.

“No, not yet. She seems pretty chill and hasn’t asked about how I make a living or why I’m residing in a small loft in a rich lady’s house.”

“And apparently you didn’t feel the need to enlighten her about any of those things,” Mozzie states the obvious. “That tells me you’re afraid to become vulnerable in her eyes because that may cause this whole thing to come to a screeching halt and you would hate if that happened. You know, I could do some digging to put this whole thing to bed before a few sparks ignite a fire that rages out of control.”

“Please don’t,” Neal murmurs poignantly.

Mozzie sips his wine and stares off into the distance. “You know, mon frère, being an orphan myself has afforded me some insight into the lack of a parental figure in one’s life. It’s a two-edged sword, really. The one left behind always wonders about the people who gave up on him, and I would imagine there has to be some kind of similar pathos on the other end of the spectrum. The ones doing the leaving have to wonder, from time to time, how their offspring may have turned out. If you are, indeed, Logan’s father, you have been afforded a wondrous bit of knowledge because now you can see firsthand what you made and how he turned out. And, on the flip side of the coin, the child may be afforded the opportunity to forge a bond with his real dad even if he’s not aware of it yet.”

“But what if it’s all some big mistake and I’m not his biological father?” Neal murmurs softly.

“Any species can procreate, Neal,” Mozzie intones solemnly. “That’s a simple microscopic act of meiosis that happens after a sperm penetrates a fertile egg. There’s no great mystery to the beginnings of life, and any kid who reaches puberty can do it. You may have done it ten years ago, or maybe it wasn’t you who was really responsible for Logan’s genesis. But if you want the definition of a parent, it means a person stepping up and being there for a kid after he comes into this world and starts growing and maturing. So, if you are Logan’s father, you may have missed the poopy diapers and the spitting up and colic, but that doesn’t make you’re any less of a good parent now. And if he’s not really your boy, that doesn’t mean you can’t love him like he is your own flesh and blood.”

“Maybe I really don’t want to know the truth,” Neal finally admits to Mozzie, who smiles and nods like a wise oracle.

“As your best friend in this world, Neal, I’m going to respect your wishes on that delicate subject,” he says softly.


	3. The Reckoning

Even though Mozzie has vowed to stand down, that could not be said for Peter. The next day, he gives Neal the two-fingered summons into his office. “When do you intend to have that sit-down session with El?” he demands an answer.

Neal immediately bristles. “You know, Peter, I don’t remember where it states in my work/release contract that I have to submit to a personal interrogation by my handler’s wife. I mean, I like Elizabeth very much, but she doesn’t get to be privy to my private life just because she’s married to you and you’re nosy.”

“Neal,” Peter begins menacingly, but his contrary CI is already heading back out the door with a parting shot. “If I’m not performing my Bureau duties efficiently, Peter, take your grievances up with my lawyer. Maybe Mozzie can have a different kind of sit-down with Reese Hughes and we can see how that all shakes out.”

Of course, Peter being Peter, he shares this troubling confrontation with El. “Peter, Neal’s right. You can be overbearing and demanding. Haven’t you realized by now that doesn’t work so well on him?”

“I need to know what he’s up to, El,” Peter says in rebuttal. “It’s my neck on the line as well as his if he screws up again.”

“Maybe he’s not screwing up, Peter. Maybe he simply likes this woman and enjoys spending time with her and her son. That’s not so farfetched.”

“But definitely out of character,” Peter argues. “Besides, if this is all on the up and up, why is he keeping things under wraps and acting all paranoid and defensive?”

Elizabeth throws up her hands in frustration. “Peter Burke, I love you but sometimes you’re a lost cause.”

Handler and CI continue to keep each other at arm’s length and the tension is palpable in the office. Jones and Diana tread lightly around them and keep their heads down, just hoping whatever this is will blow over without any collateral damage.

Finally, the next weekend, Elizabeth makes a pilgrimage to Neal’s loft bearing a basket of gourmet muffins and chocolate chip cookies. Neal sighs when he sees her standing in his doorway looking hopeful, but he is too much of a gentleman to act like an ungrateful cad. He invites her in and makes some Italian roast in the coffee press.

“Neal, let me begin by apologizing for Peter,” Elizabeth says softly. “Sometimes tact is not his strong suit, but underneath all that bluster is a real fondness for you. Surely, you must know that.”

When the former con man stubbornly refuses to answer, Elizabeth sighs. “I’m not here to badger you, Sweetie. I simply came bearing a peace offering. A certain pretty lady might enjoy a cranberry almond muffin, and I’m sure all little boys like chocolate chip cookies.”

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” Neal finally softens.

Elizabeth leaves a little later, no wiser about Neal’s mystery, but certainly more at ease with a lovable ex-conman. She decides to keep this little encounter to herself. There’s no sense in stoking Peter’s furnace and getting him wound up. Little did she know that her husband was not content to let it rest.

The suspicious and tenacious FBI agent keeps a dedicated eye on Neal’s tracking data in real time, and the following Saturday he takes himself to the planetarium because that’s where the little blinking dot has stabilized. He hovers unobtrusively in an alcove until the twenty-minute presentation concludes in the Imax theater and a steady stream of eager wannabe astronomers begin to trickle out. Peter immediately spots Neal and his lady friend and the little boy who is talking animatedly. They don’t notice him as they head for the cozy on-site café. He watches clandestinely as Neal and the woman enjoy a cup of coffee and the kid slurps down a milkshake through a straw. Then they all get up and leave through an exit door across the room. Peter quickly sidles over to their vacated table and intercepts a busboy about to clear it. A careful handler takes out his handkerchief and picks up the coffee cup that this Susan Sanders person had handled, and, as an afterthought, he grabs the straw from the boy’s drink. _No harm, no foul_ , Peter reasons. Just collecting a bit of possible evidence of a crime not yet committed.

The following Monday, he turns over the coffee cup for fingerprint analysis, and when the cyber geeks get a hit, he decides to take it a step further and submits the kid’s straw for DNA analysis. Peter studies all the data and makes a call. Later that afternoon, he summons his CI into the conference room where a Federal Marshal stands like a patient sentinel.

Neal looks wary as he saunters into the room and immediately recognizes the danger lurking in the corner. His eyes narrow as Peter says, “It’s time for a ‘Come To Jesus’ talk, Neal, and you had better be forthcoming.”

“So, does that mean if you don’t get the answers you want, this fellow puts me in handcuffs and I’m off once again to Sing Sing?” Neal asks bitterly.

“It means, if you are not honest and provide some plausible explanation that I can believe, we’re done, Buddy,” Peter says evenly. “Now, sit down and tell me exactly how you know this Susan Sanders person and how far back in history your relationship goes.”

Neal shakes his head and remains defiantly silent while Peter tries to keep his temper in check. “Look, Neal, you can call me sneaky and intrusive. I’m going with cautious and preemptive, and, apparently, it is to my credit that I am both of those things because either you lied to me and you and your lady friend have cooked up an agenda, or someone who claims her name is Susan is playing you.”

Neal’s only response is a cold stare. “Okay, let me go with the facts that I do know,” Peter growls. “I ran the woman’s fingerprints and it was an eye-opening experience, to say the least. Her name isn’t Susan Sanders, but, at various times, it was Sibyl Adams, Brittany Hall, Amy Hoff, and Jennifer Shilling. She’s a grifter with a long history of bilking rich married men out of their money who didn’t want the scandal of an affair and a resulting child. She’s even hit up wealthy playboys who paid her to go away rather than dealing with a possible kid they didn’t know they had fathered. Apparently, she’s very good at her crafty lies, and there are outstanding arrest warrants for her as far away as the West Coast. When I accosted you during your date at that Italian restaurant, she claimed that the two of you go way back. So, if you’re getting all chummy with the lady now, exactly how do you fit into her current reprehensible plans? What part does she want you to play in some evil plot to defraud another dupe?”

Neal prides himself on maintaining a poker face, but Peter has known the young man for a long time. The jaw tightening and the pulse throbbing on the side of his neck just above his shirt collar speak volumes. The average interrogator wouldn’t see those tells for what they were. Neal was rocked to his core and valiantly trying to hide it. Peter actually lets himself exhale before turning to the US Marshal. “I think we’re good here,” he murmurs as he perfunctorily dismisses the man without an explanation.

Peter then sits across from his CI and folds his hands on the conference table. “You didn’t know, did you?” he whispers gently.

Neal looks at Peter steadily as he asks, “Are you absolutely sure and there’s no mistake?”

Peter nods. “I really hate to be right, but I’m relieved that you were in the dark as to her true motives. She probably had somehow unearthed your backstory and suspected that you have a substantial cache hidden away somewhere. That’s what she most likely was after. She looks a bit like Kate and she probably hoped to make you fall in love with her. Even if you did eventually find out the truth, she was banking on you not involving the cops because your fortune was obtained illegally. She could walk away free as a bird and extremely wealthy, and you couldn’t follow her.”

“Is the boy really her son?” Neal needs to know.

“I’ve sent out a DNA sample for him, but I didn’t have one for her. We can obtain that after we arrest her and bring her inhouse. Maybe you should be leveling with me and telling me if she claimed he was your son,” Peter adds.

Neal doesn’t actually answer the question directly, but he does whisper, “Maybe you should send out a sample of my DNA, as well.”

Even though Peter had his suspicions, that poignant statement momentarily startles him. Nonetheless, he quickly regroups. “So, does that mean that you and the lady once had an intimate history?”

Neal shakes his head sorrowfully. “It means that right now I have no idea if anything is real or if it’s all just an illusion.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal never gets the chance to confront Susan or Jennifer or Brittany, or any other of the slick woman’s alter-egos. She’s swiftly taken into custody and disappears into a black hole. Neal literally begs to see Logan, but that is just as fruitless. DNA has proven that Logan is really Susan’s son, but the child has been swallowed up by the officious Department of Family and Children’s Services and is probably languishing, scared and confused, in some temporary foster placement.

“Has anybody explained anything to him?” Neal browbeats Peter. “This may be my son we’re talking about, and he doesn’t deserve to be feeling helpless and lost and alone.”

“When it all gets sorted out, we’re find out exactly what the next steps are,” Peter tries to placate his edgy CI. “If you are his biological father, we can petition the court to have him stay with you. It may be an uphill battle to convince a judge that you can be a fit parent, given your history. So, you need to be realistic about the outcome.”

Neal looks crestfallen and Peter takes pity on this complicated and confusing man who is his responsibility. “Tell me, Neal, are you really hoping that he is your son?”

“I don’t know, Peter,” Neal says irritably. “Maybe, probably—I’m just not sure about anything at this point. He’s a really cool kid and he deserves something so much better than a mother who used him as a prop to extort money.”

“I didn’t know you wanted children, Neal,” Peter says quietly.

The young man before him shrugs. “I really wasn’t planning on it until I found somebody willing to share her life with an ex-con. But hanging around Logan was sort of nice. Being a kind of pseudo-parent made me feel a sense of responsibility to someone who needed another someone to make sure they were okay.”

“It seems that Peter Pan has grown up,” Neal’s handler remarks fondly. “Maybe this will all work out and everybody will be where they should be and doing what makes them feel fulfilled on some level.”

“You’re being really nice about this whole thing, Peter,” Neal remarks warily. “I’d expect you to be saying this is poetic justice—a con man allowing himself to be conned.”

“Then maybe you really don’t know me all that well, Buddy,” Peter replies sadly. “I want you to have a good life, Neal, and to be happy, whether you’re a father or not.”

“If you say so,” Neal says indifferently.

“I do say so,” Peter reiterates.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re taking this really well, Neal,” Mozzie says as he watches his friend intently over the rims of his glasses. Just that afternoon, Peter had delivered the outcome of the chromosomal testing—either good news or bad news, depending on one’s perspective. Neal now knew he had been hoodwinked and that young Logan was not his biological son. He wondered why it felt like there was a pain in his chest right over his heart.

“Do they know who the child’s real father is?” Mozzie wants to know.

“Peter had them run it through CODIS, but there were no hits even close to matching Logan’s DNA profile, so an absent father has never been entered into the system,” Neal explains.

“I suppose that’s a good thing because it means the little man’s daddy isn’t some criminal.”

“And he’s not this criminal’s offspring either,” Neal replies sadly.

“You would have made an excellent dad, Neal,” Mozzie says with a nod of his head. “And I would have been a doting uncle to the little lad. Oh, the places we could have gone,” the bald man ends with a slightly fractured Dr. Seuss title.

“Maybe one day,” Neal trails off.

“Yeah, maybe one day,” Mozzie echoes the wistful sentiment.


End file.
